


Celebration

by Ruriska



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, I've got one hour to post this before I lose King to the dream daddy void, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: As the rest of the team celebrate a birthday, Hanzo and Jesse enjoy the night their own way.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Dear kingrepulsive,
> 
> Did you think my badly typed singing was all you were gonna get??? Well, SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY. ENJOY YOUR SMUT.
> 
> Love, Ruri

For the members of Overwatch, both new to the fold and the recently reunited, birthdays had become a big deal. They were a chance to celebrate, to come together as a group and remember a year gone past, to pamper the birthday child with love and cheer but most of all, with a dark thought that lingered in the back of their minds throughout, they were glad that person they cherished was still with them. 

Death was a constant entity. It hunted them day and night. They were the hands of justice, bringing a swift end to others while only ever being one wrong move from a fatal bullet. Every one of them was aware of that fact, and some had already flirted more closely with death than others. It meant having a chance to celebrate simply being alive made birthdays all that more special, and always led to a night of loud frivolity and letting loose.

Lena’s birthday this year seemed especially loud. Even in the kitchen, where Hanzo was certainly not hiding from the commotion, the music and shouting was constant. The influence of the younger crowd, no doubt. Hana and Lucio had been planning the festivities all week. Assisted by Emily, who had spent far too much time stressing about the decorations as if it would make or break the night. Meanwhile Winston had spent countless hours building some sort of preset, a pleased but nervous chuckle bubbling up whenever anyone asked about it. 

It was nice.

Different but certainly nice.

Hanzo could admit that freely but that didn’t mean he was comfortable being surrounded by the happy party-goers, not without being reminded constantly of all his years alone, of his exile, of the path his life had led him. Happiness was not a place he was destined for. The best he could hope for, that he strived for, was redemption. That sometimes he found himself smiling, heart lighter than it had ever been, was terrifying. Guilt usually followed, swallowed him up for weeks on end, from merely allowing himself a moment without pain.

Under the pretext of cleaning up and organising more snacks, Hanzo lingered in the kitchen. The others understood without comment. They came and went, thanked him for another bowl of chips or refilled glass. They let him remain in relative peace without prying or intruding for too long.

All of them except one.

Hanzo was in the middle of washing a plate, taking his time despite it being spotless already, when McCree entered the kitchen. You rarely had to even see him to know he was there because he announced himself with heavy footfalls and the clink of spurs -- unless they were on a mission and then somehow he was unexpectedly behind every corner, whisper quiet, grinning like a madman.

“Sure are a rowdy lot,” McCree said, conversational and easy, the door swinging closed behind him. “I’m still not used to getting drunk around so much company. It’d usually just be me and the bartender.” He walked towards Hanzo with his even thudding steps, continued talking through the others silence. “Your lovely self not included, of course. That’s well tread soil.”

Hanzo lifted the plate out of the sink, watched the water and suds drip away. 

He didn’t look over, didn’t allow himself to indulge just yet. He simply listened, hyper aware of the other man throughout his approach, up until he was standing right behind him. Hanzo was always surprised by how much of a physical presence McCree had; by simply being in a room he wasn't just there, he was _there_. Especially when he _wanted_ to be felt, not touching yet but existing so powerfully Hanzo’s almost felt like he was.

And he wanted to be touched. The short space between them could be breached by simply leaning back into him. Hanzo resisted the pull, knew it was pointless and held out for as long as he could anyway. He put the plate aside, upside down. His hands gripped at the edge of the sink, held on for dear life before gravity took charge and ultimately toppled back into McCree’s arms. Like always. Some would call it fate.

“Hanzo,” McCree rumbled, hot breath on the back of his neck. “You can relax, babydoll.” 

Two strong hands on his hips, the grip of the metal one always noticeably harder, and Hanzo finally let himself be encouraged backwards. He let his back rest against that broad chest, moved with the pleased sigh that rolled out of the taller man. Hanzo felt some of the muscles he had been unwittingly holding tense suddenly relax. His head lolled against McCree’s shoulder.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Now give me some sugar.”

Hanzo obliged, tilted his head up and back to meet McCree’s lips. There was only so long you could fight such a request and Hanzo didn’t want to try. It was a gentle kiss, familiar and warm. McCree propped his chin on the top of Hanzo’s head afterwards, one hand rubbing lazy circles onto his hip. 

“You should go back to the party, Jesse,” Hanzo urged quietly. 

“Naw. I like it here better.”

There was that warmth again, the one in his heart that left him feeling hollow later, simply because he knew he didn’t deserve it. “I am busy, Jesse. Surely the others are more entertaining.”

“Busy washing a single plate, eh?” McCree huffed out a laugh. “They’re all dancin’ and while I look mighty fine in a line, that’s about as far as my talents reach. Bit lonely without my dance partner, anyhow.” 

And because he clearly couldn’t miss the chance to bring up an occurrence Hanzo had strictly forbidden he ever talk about, he added: “‘Sides, nobody can bust a move quite like you can.” There would be a grin on his face as he said it. Hanzo could feel it.

“It is a dance steeped in tradition,” Hanzo responded tartly. He had been _very_ drunk when he’d offered to demonstrate the sōran bushi. Not that he hadn’t pulled it off admirably but he did regret that Jesse had taken video footage of the occasion.

“Got me harder than a rock,” Jesse purred.

“I know.” Hanzo smiled fondly and placed one hand against the one on his hip, entwining their fingers. “Should we... retire?” He suggested, already feeling his belly tighten with anticipation. Sex was easier than love. It was just another function, like eating or sleeping. Or at least, that’s what he could tell himself.

“I dunno,” was the unexpected reply, “I kinda like it here.”

There was a shout from the other room followed by bellowing laughter.

Hanso frowned at the rejection. “I suppose I shall continue cleaning my one dish then.” He shifted, rocked forward on his heels in preparation to pull away but McCree’s grip tightened and held him back. 

“Now, now, don’t get your knickers in a twist, sweetpea.”

Hanzo really should have expected it, should have anticipated the action before Jesse made it; but somehow he was surprised by how McCree freed his hand and slid it up under Hanzo’s shirt to reach his stomach. Those rough calloused fingers pressed into the sensitive skin, kneaded gently. “Just thought,” Jesse’s voice had deepened, his lips pressed close to Hanzo’s ear, “there’s no point in leaving the party just yet.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice came out as a squeak, face flushed. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“Mmm, that’s the good bit.”

Hanzo’s head jerked sideways, gaze locking onto the closed door that led to the main dining and lounge, where the party was still in full swing. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, felt the thrill of discovery as a tremble down his spine.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” McCree planted a wet kiss against his neck, taking his silence as assent. Hanzo allowed himself to be manhandled, didn’t put up any resistance as McCree maneuvered him how he wanted, with his hands gripping the sink again, leaning forward and feet parted. “Gonna take care of you real good. Ain’t that right?”

The metal hand rubbed against his back and Hanzo was always reminded that he’d seen Jesse bend steel with ease. During one memorable mission he’d nearly smashed a man’s head right of his shoulders with a single punch.

Hanzo dipped his head, stared at the floor as lust bubbled like hot lava in his gut. 

“You want that?” Another kiss, hot breath, the hint of teeth, “you gotta tell me you want it baby. Gotta tell me right.” McCree's voice was rough and insistent. Hanzo glanced back towards the door again, felt his cock stiffening. It made his _want_ all that more fierce. McCree would take care of him, he always did. 

“Y-yes,” Hanzo croaked out. He cleared his throat, let himself sink into this good space, the space of forgetting, of just being, enjoying, living. “Yes _daddy_.”

McCree’s breath caught in his throat. Hanzo heard the hiss of it. 

“Yeah, that’s right, daddy’s got you. Daddy’s here. I’m always gonna treat you right.” As he spoke, McCree was touching Hanzo; his arms, his sides, his back, as if intent on covering every inch. Hanzo whined and arched his back, shoved his ass out, shamelessly requesting.

McCree was slow to oblige. When his hand finally roamed down to Hanzo’s ass, the touch was gentle and fleeting. Hanzo held his breath and waited. It came with a quick snap and Hanzo moaned sharply as the firm hand slapped across his clothed asscheek. 

“Where are you manners, darlin’?”

Hanzo’s breath shuddered through him.

“Please daddy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” His hand curled, fingers teasing the seam of his ass and then going further to cup his balls through his pants. Hanzo rocked into the touch. “Now you’re gonna turn your head, rest it right there on that sink and you’re gonna stare at the door as I jerk you off. I want them to see you when they walked in. You look so goddamn pretty. Shame to keep you all to myself.” Hanzo followed instructions, shaking, knees already weak. 

McCree pulled Hanzo’s pants down around his hips. He was gentle as he unclothed Hanzo’s cock, easing it out to stand stiffly in the air. He rubbed his hand along the length with tender care, fingers catching at the foreskin and pulling down to reveal the red glans. A thumb swiped across the sticky head and Hanzo groaned softly. 

“You like that?”

“Mmhm.”

“Couldn’t hear you, sweetie.”

“Yes, daddy,” Hanzo voice trembled, his cock quirked in McCree’s grip, “thank you.”

McCree’s nuzzled at his neck and praised him for his good manners but when he finally began to properly jerk him off it was at a slow and maddening pace that made Hanzo’s toes tingle and curl. He tried to rut into McCree’s grip but there was always a hand on his hip, keeping him still and it only took one firm squeeze to keep him compliant. He was a good boy, always good for his Jesse, he would do as he was told. 

As McCree’s hand continued its relentless motion, Hanzo kept his eyes locked on the doorway, nearly biting his lip in anticipation, waiting and watching. Would anyone walk through? What would they think when they saw him here, bent over, cock out? He could imagine the shock on their faces but what after that? Disgust? Lust? Would they stay and watch or walk out again? 

Sweat was sticky on his skin, made him feel clammy and weak. He wanted to buck and scream from frustration. He wanted more but he had to be patient. 

McCree’s breathing was harsh and loud behind him. 

“Babydoll, lemme just,” there was the clink of a belt being released, the rustle of jeans being pushed down, “just a bit, just-”

“-just the tip,” Hanzo finished, roused briefly from his hazy desire, unthinkingly letting the words roll from his tongue. He would have laughed at his own joke, if he’d had the extra breath for it. 

McCree let out a delighted chuckle. “Yeah, baby, just the tip.”

Metal fingers shifted from hip to ass, pulling one cheek to the side to allow him access. The head of McCree’s cock, just as big as the rest of him, rubbed against Hanzo’s entrance, teasing it with soft little bumps. There was promise in the way that his cock kept jolting against his hole, never pushing past the rim, just reminding him of other days, other nights, when Hanzo had been blissfully full.

“Shit,” Jesse swore under his breath and Hanzo felt warm spit hit the bottom of his spine. McCree immediately spread it downwards, had to let go of Hanzo’s cock to do so much to Hanzo’s distress. He swirled the warm spit around Hanzo’s rim and pushed inwards with his fingers, testing and wriggling. His dick followed afterwards, pushing in, still just the head but enough that Hanzo was fluttering and tensing around it, feeling the slight stretch. 

Hanzo was trying to both tense down on what was available and also relax enough to coax more in. It wasn’t enough.

His lonely dick twitched, spilled precum. Hanzo looked down and watched it ooze from his flushed tip, dripping to the tiled floor. His balls felt tight and uncomfortable. 

Hanzo licked his lips, considered shoving back but resisted the allure; he knew he would only get what Jesse chose to give him and allowing him that power made the payoff all the sweeter. It was only here that he could give that control to another and there was no point if he broke rank now.

Jesse pulled away and Hanzo whined in protest.

“Mmm, later on, babydoll,” McCree promised. “Now stand up and face the door.”

Hanzo straightened and shuffled around, pants around his hips, cock swaying. He faced the door as requested, his breath coming in erratic gasps. There he stood exposed, feeling the cold of the kitchen on his naked skin. He stared at the doorway, hyper aware, shivering. His cock throbbed desperately but he kept his hands away at his sides, nails biting into his palms. 

“Gonna jerk you off just like this, honeybee.” McCree was back behind him, hand reaching around, taking hold. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes daddy,” Hanzo groaned, melting against him, head turned to plant a sloppy kiss against his chin and getting mostly beard. It didn’t matter, he continued to leave lazy, loving kisses on Jesse wherever he could reach. “Take care of me. I need it. I need you.”

“Yeah, baby.” McCree’s voice was rough. Hanzo could still feel his cock hot and hard against his ass and he arched into it, grinding back into Jesse’s crotch. McCree swore at the contact, swept an arm around his chest and held him in a near crushing grip as he began to jerk him off in earnest.

Hanzo whined, threw his back and rode the new wave of pleasure, felt the heat rolling through him, the tight oversensitive need. Mouth open, breathing in quick pants.

“Eyes on the door, sweetheart, don’t look away,” Jesse urged and he made he was looking, kept his focus forward. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, ended up grasping at the restraining arm, as if it was a lifeline. It was certainly the only thing keeping him upright. 

“They’re gonna walk right in here,” McCree was talking in his ear, hand ceaselessly pumping, thumb flicking his foreskin, running along the thickest vein. There was little finesse but it wasn’t necessary. “They’re gonna.. gonna fuckin’ walk right in here, see my hand around your cock, workin’ you over. They’ll see how goddamn beautiful you are, just like this, wantin’ it so bad.”

Hanzo’s hips jerked, his muscles clenching.

“Who’s it gonna be? Lucio maybe? He’s young, real good lookin’, right? Reckon he’d get down on his knees and finish you off with his mouth?” McCree chuckle turned into a groan. He kept talking, unable to stop, each word tipping Hanzo closer to the edge. “Or Reinhardt. A man that big.. well, you’ve seen him in the showers. He’d fill you up real nice. Make you scream. Is that what you want? Hanzo, sweetie, darling? Tell me. Gotta tell me.”

Through his mind was all scattered thoughts and imagination, driven sideways and all over by pleasure, Hanzo found his voice. He choked out the words but they made no sense, came out garbled.

“What was... what was that, honeypie?”

“Just... just... you... just you daddy.”

“Oh Hanzo.” McCree kissed him then, open mouthed, claiming. 

Hanzo was drowning. 

The door cracked open.

Music and voices spilled into the room.

“Anyone want another drink?” Lena’s voice, her voice bright and cheerful. 

They both stilled, stopped breathing in unison, and stared at that slightly open doorway. Someone was going to see him. They were going to see him like this. Out in offering, debased and needy. Hanzo’s orgasm hit in a sudden wave and he smothered his own sounds with the palm of a hand, grunting out his release onto McCree’s clenched fingers and the floor. 

“Oi!” Lena snapped and Hanzo’s head jerked up, knocked McCree’s chin. The taller man swore under his breath, warmth spilled across Hanzo’s ass and thighs. “Oi, that’s my present! You can’t use it before I do!”

And then she was gone.

The door closed again.

The two men stood shaking, clutching at each other. Hanzo was still reeling from the sudden orgasm, light-headed and swaying but even so he moved first, tried to pull his pants back up his hips to cover himself. McCree’s grip didn't make it an easy task.

“Jesse,” Hanzo huffed, barely holding his own weight up as he zipped up his pants. 

“Best party I’ve ever been to,” McCree huffed in his ear.

Hanzo swatted at his arm, a love tap. “Do not make this a habit,” he warned, sated but embarrassed by the wanton display. If Lena had walked into the room, he would have had no choice but to leave Overwatch and wander in disgrace for the rest of his life. A prospect he did not want to return to.

“Mmm, we’ll see.”

That was not reassuring at all and it somehow made him twitch with already renewed interest.

Hanzo turned in McCree’s arms, reached up and grabbed at his scruffy beard. He caught hair between his knuckles and tugged. “You are a terrible _daddy_ ,” he hissed. “Now take me to bed.” Because he wasn’t ready for this to end. He wasn’t ready for regret. There was so much more to do tonight. 

He also wanted to get out of the kitchen before someone actually walked in. 

McCree grinned, lopsided and easy, “my pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh fuck, I hope you enjoyed that.


End file.
